


drown

by lostamongstars



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Brotp, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Dark Past, Everyone's Drunk, Gen, I'm Bad At Tagging, Minho is angry, One Shot, minewt, one night gone wrong, probably, where Newt didn't like swimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-18 18:02:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3578775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostamongstars/pseuds/lostamongstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt had no desire to swim. Minho knew why. Still, he brought the Brit to Gally's apparently stupid party where he and the rest of the Gladers (a large, tight knit group of students of the Glade Academy, mind you) will be having good times at the shuck guy's infinity pool at the rooftop deck.</p><p>Or, one aquaphobic blond thrown into the pool. Minho almost wanted to kill everyone.<br/>//oh gods; I'm so bad at summaries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	drown

Spoiler-ish: A little note here, at the mention of ~~Death Cure~~ a little further down, I'd like to say that the character names in the book is different, so, yeah. ~~Don't hit me for making Newt read it. (Whoops)~~

 

* * *

 

Newt had no desire to swim. Minho knew why. Still, he brought the Brit to Gally's apparently stupid party where he and the rest of the Gladers (a large, tight knit group of students of the Glade Academy, mind you) will be having good times at the shuck guy's infinity pool at the rooftop deck.

"You could just avoid them and continue reading that book by the punch," the Asian suggested as he drove their transport to Gally's estate. The blond boy's eyes flared but without its heat from before, his back leaning on the leather seat. He have calmed down after reading that weird and really graphic book entitled Death Cure. Minho couldn't even fathom why someone would read about zombies and having your brain eaten from the inside just because you used it for thinking and analyzing. The fuck is that?

It made his stomach churn, and only the track-and-field team's hardcore practices did that. 

"Whatever. Let's get this over with." 

The hackles in Minho seemed to pull itself taut. He hated it when he made Newt angry, and the latter was pretty much acting like one. 

"Dude, I'm not bloody mad, if that's what you're thinking."

"Then what?" Minho turned around the curb, and a grand gate of dark metal greeted them. Still a few meters away from where they are but at least they've made it without getting lost for once. Distant lights shone from the topmost floors, almost as if some cranky humans have placed pocket-size quasars in it. The sounds of new, dance-y stuff pulsed from far away, almost syncing with his heartbeat. Cars were parked at the walls surrounding the large compound. Minho could make out a couple of Gladers in the shadows, out with the girls wearing a different school uniform- that one from the nearby Wicked Academy for Girls.

Minho realized the boy at the passenger's seat didn't made any reply whatsoever. As soon as the Asian parked his car between a beat-up Volvo and a gray Cadillac, he killed the engine and they both got out. 

The sounds of mad partying increased by a tenfold. At this, Minho merely shook his head. It was a miracle that not a single police officer had reprimanded them yet. 

"Newt! Minho!" It was Thomas. And his words were quite slurred to his ears. There was an audible "oof", and as Minho turned he saw Thomas engulf Newt in a bear hug, the book cinched in Newt's arm and its cover folding. Apparently, he made his way there, Newt at his right and Thomas at his left.

"You're gonna kill the book he's protecting more than his shucking life." 

"Oh." The Greenie laughed. "Sorry, Newtie." He entangled himself away and met a murderous glare from the blond. "Why did you even bring that book with you? You're gonna swim free tonight, shank!"

Newt's jaw dropped, brown eyes growing darker. "Who in bloody God's name are you to-"

"Come on, shanks! We're gonna miss the party if we just stand here!" 

Thomas was pulling Newt to the estate. His best mate in school. With one last sigh, Minho followed the path of destruction that a drunken Thomas could only make. 

 

*

 

If the sounds blaring and jackhammering Minho's head from the mansion's lower levels were bad enough, the sights on the actual partying grounds were about a hundred times worse.

Countless Gladers milled around, some talking with the girls from that other Academy, some enjoying the night by drinking spiked punch (it will always be spiked, knowing these shuckfaces), playing a really lewd version of Twister at the poolside, swimming (of course), or hooting and shooting darts at something Minho couldn't make out- was that Prof. Jansen's face taped on a pony's head? 

Frypan was behind a long table where three punch bowls and an array of quick snacks lay, handing them to pretty much anyone who wanted some midnight grub. He was pretty close to the guy, and probably the first one to arrive at any party- being the usual caterer and all. Where was Thomas? Newt? Certainly they'd arrived first, didn't they? 

Frypan noticed him. Called him. And so Minho went. They catched up on… things. School. The party. Girls and their lack of interest on it. How nice. How they even managed to hear each other with all the sounds nearly making the Asian's eardrums explode he had no idea. By the time they finished catching up, Minho's eyes caught onto something at the farthest side of the rooftop, almost to the edge of the infinity pool that faced the sky.

A drunken Thomas and Gally, accompanied by a few Gladers and that shuck girl Teresa, were about to throw Newt to the poolside. 

Shuck it.

A countdown started.  _Three!_

Hoots. Catcalling. Minho's feet seemed stuck to the ground. 

_Two!_

Newt was over the water, still held tightly by the two boys by his limbs. He was squirming from their grasp, like a worm sprinkled with salt. 

_One!_

Woosh! The blond's scream was cut short as he submerged. A cold hand passed over his heart, waking his senses. He jumped to the pool, not even minding that he'd worn his parka that always got heavy when wet and his loafers. 

The sounds above the water magically shut down, Minho thought as he got up to take a quick breath. He pulled his head down again, straining his eyes to see where Newt is among these other shanks. There at the far side. Unmoving. Eyes closed. 

Shuck it. Shuck it. Shuck it. Shuck it, Minho! 

He scissor-kicked his legs and swam fasted to Newt. He wasn't still moving. The cold hand from earlier seemed to be grasping his heart now, enclosing it. He reached Newt, pulled him up to the surface. Minho found a metal ladder nearby and he hung Newt's limp and pale arms on the rungs. The effort seemed to take too much of his energy. 

"What the fuck are you looking at?" Minho shouted, eyes stinging from the water and the rage simmering in his veins. "Help me!" 

That seemed to snap something in their heads. Thomas got there first and pulled Newt upward, Minho following the blond's path. He and Gally laid the boy over one of the beach recliners, pulled by two other Gladers. Teresa knelt next to Newt, checking his forehead and cheeks with her hands. 

"He's unconscious."

"Do you think I didn't know that?" Minho was on the verge of strangling someone right then and there. 

"Look, man." Thomas held his head down like a puppy after hearing the sound of loud thunder. He sounded sober this time, as if the incident took away all that punch from his system. "I- I'm sorry. I didn't know that was gonna happen."

Minho couldn't force himself to look at Thomas. He was too pumped by worry and his desire to punch him. Or anyone. 

"Is he always like that when..." 

"Yeah." The Asian cut him off. "He was a part of the Runners- the track team- before, you know. A similar event happened, but we were in a beach. We swam together, got a bit far, then-" He stopped himself, the vague fog of memories clouding his vision. "Never mind."

Teresa was suddenly at his side, his arm held by her left hand. Her fingers were cold and clammy. "Tell us, Minho."

"Lay off me, Teresa."

The girl bit his lip but didn't back down. Minho resorted into gazing at his mate, barely breathing this time. He coughed. Then he started spitting water. Only her and Thomas were at Minho's side. Gally was trying to keep the shanks away from the recovering Newt, which wasn't like him really. 

Then he knew why. Anyone who hurts Newt faces his wrath. And even without that unspoken rule most students were already afraid of him. That straight laced track leader. One of the best in the state. When he gets tangled in a fight, only Newt could calm him down. 

And Newt was struggling, struggling from the pain from two years ago.

The Asian took a deep breath, shivering as the cold, wintry air blew past. "A medium-sized shark appeared, but its back was turned at us. We were startled. Scared out our wits. We swam out as fast as we can, but Newt's left ankle hit a section of the reef and-" 

He stopped, the memories clouding before him again. He couldn't say anything anymore. He remembered taking Newt by the shoulders as he swam to the shore. The surprised screams from everyone in the track team. The sessions with the orthopedic doctor a few weeks later, telling him and Newt that the latter couldn't continue running like he used to. The limp was a constant reminder of that day, of his fear. 

And again, Minho brought it back, just like that day where he suggested them exploring the reefs more. 

He felt sick to the stomach, the cold air numbing the heated rage in him. 

He couldn't remember what had followed after that. It was all but a blur, a night of many things Minho wished he could forget someday. Someday.

 


End file.
